


An Embrace to Save Face

by VulpesVulpes713



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hugging, Laith, M/M, Post Season 6, Voltron, Well - Freeform, before the castle blew up, klance, klance fluff, leakira - Freeform, no relationship (yet), so somewhere in there, these boys needed more screen time but dont even get me started on that rant, vld, whatever its still two dorks in love, wow so many now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 00:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: Keith feels the need to apologize to Lance after his...rather rude return to the team. Apologies are hard though.Hugs on the other hand?Those are easy.





	An Embrace to Save Face

**Author's Note:**

> I'd apologize for the title but you know me well enough at this point.

It’s been eating at him for a while now: this weight chipping away at his conscience.

 

He wants to call it regret, knows it would be easier to live with were that the case, but deep down Keith understands it’s guilt that he’s feeling.

 

He wishes it weren’t, but it’s a selfish thought that he suppresses almost immediately. Denying his guilt would mean leaving it all for someone else to shoulder, which Keith can’t allow himself to do, no matter how willing Lance would be. 

 

The guy is abundantly altruistic, and it pains Keith to see him keep his troubles quiet for the sake of the team. Not that Keith is very good at picking up on those vibes to begin with, but there’s no denying the way Lance’s behaviour has changed towards him.

 

He no longer pokes fun, or makes jokes. His eyes linger when Keith’s back is turned, but flicker away whenever Keith notices. 

 

It was odd at first, unsettling and quiet and not at all like the Lance Keith had come to know. Or, at least, not the one he had left behind.

 

This is a different Lance: one whose smiles no longer meet his eyes, and Keith can’t help but blame himself.

 

Granted, he figures there’s a cacophony of reasons behind Lance’s abrupt mood shift, reasons he’ll uncover eventually, but it’s not like he helped make matters any better.

 

In fact Keith is positive that his _... _ rather  _ curt  _ return to the team had only further chipped away at Lance’s seemingly indestructible character.

 

He’d tossed a stone at the ice only to find a thin layer of mist hiding the water beneath, and now he’s dealing with the ripples of consequence his actions created. 

 

Honestly, he should have just taken a moment to say hi. Tell Lance he was glad to see him again, maybe shake his hand or something…

 

_ No, that’s dumb. Who even shakes hands anymore?! _

 

But then again, a hand shake would have been better than the cold shoulder he’d given Lance instead. Even if his reasons had been justifiable at the time, what with Lotor not being who they thought and the discovery of a different realm filled with what was once believed to be a dwindling race...yeah, it had been a lot. 

 

But  _ still! _ Keith could have handled it better.

 

_ Should _ have handled it better, but in the end he’d let his walls do the talking, meaning he hadn't done much talking at all. 

 

But, on the other hand, it  _ had _ been  _ two years  _ since he had seen any of them...and for Lance to be the first person to greet him after coming out of that ship…

 

Maybe it had been a little too much. 

 

Too many images flooding back, too many regrets resurfacing. 

 

Two years of nothing but faded memories and glorified images of the friends he had left behind in favour of his mission. 

 

Two years of thinking about Lance, reliving every moment they’d shared in vivid detail thanks to the space anomaly Krolia and him had endured. 

 

And then, all at once, to be back and see Lance for  _ real _ , virtually unchanged and approaching and talking and  _ staring _ at him-

 

Overwhelming was an understatement.

 

But Keith's defenses had left Lance suffering, and that wasn't fair. 

 

He has to fix things, get them back to that sturdy place they had been at before the Blades. 

 

Back when Lance would actively seek him out...talk to him without that formal, unfamiliar tone. 

 

It's weird now, and Keith can’t stand it anymore. 

 

So he sighs silently, throwing back his shoulders as he lifts his hand to knock on the door to Lance’s room, ready to apologize and hopefully remedy the guilt eating away at his core.

 

To seal the rift that's grown between them.

 

He's about to lower his knuckles to the metal when the barrier slides open, and Keith is just quick enough to halt his hand before it lands a hit to Lance’s shoulder. 

 

Because there he is, startled but present, standing before Keith with an expression akin to a deer in the headlights. 

 

Keith almost laughs, but the awkwardness he carries around at all times surfaces, giddy to make a fool out of him, so the sound that escapes his lips is more of a choked swallow than a chuckle. 

 

_ Great. _

 

“Keith what-”

 

“Lance-oh-” he breaks off, waiting for Lance to talk rather than continue to speak over him, but the boy is silent now.

 

He’s always silent now. 

 

So Keith pushes on. 

 

“Um, hey…”

 

Lance tilts his head to one side-questioning without having to be verbal about it-and Keith feels his palms begin to sweat. 

 

_ Please Lance just-give me something to go off of or….or make fun of me or something! Please!  _

 

“Do you need anything?” Lance asks instead, back to that formal tone, as if speaking to a stranger instead of a friend.

 

_ Is that what I’ve become now?  _

 

Keith is briefly taken aback by the question and the uncertainty it brings, but decides it’s warranted given the situation. He never bothered to check what time it is, and it’s not like he’s ever made a personal visit to Lance’s room before. 

 

“I was just..uh,” he trails off, not knowing how to make a proper excuse for his presence. He’s never been one for thinking up conversation on the spot. His instincts tended to toe the line between fight or flight consistently, never allowing him a moment of casual talking. 

 

It’s kept him alive, to say the least, but has definitely hampered his social skills. He thinks it might be a hereditary trait. 

 

_ If only my bayard turned into a shot of whiskey instead. Then I’d be able to do this no problem. _

 

But alcohol is scarce and not really to Keith’s liking to begin with, so he silences the excuses.

 

_ Fuck it, _ he thinks with a mental scolding,  _ just tell him the truth. I’ve always been better at that anyway.  _

 

“Actually Lance,” he starts, dropping his gaze to the floor as the request takes more effort than should be required, “do you have time to talk? Just for a bit?”

 

Again, he’s not sure what he expects in reply, but it sure as hell isn’t the blunt “about what?” he’s given. 

 

Explaining takes time, and if Keith is going to do this then he wants to do it properly. And to do  _ that _ he needs to know if Lance is willing to listen.

 

“Well, I just-” he breaks off with a huff, frustration growing as he fails to explain in words. “Do you have time or not?”

 

Lance folds his arms over his torso, shifting his weight to one foot as he frowns. 

 

“I have things to-” he halts, dropping his hands to his hips as he takes a different route. “Just spit it out. What do you want?” 

 

_ It’s not about want! It’s a need! _

 

But it feels wrong now, to admit that. It’s clear that Lance is upset, proven by his lack of patience, and his tone is only spurring Keith’s own temper, hastily killing off whatever softer emotions he had been harbouring. 

 

The guilt coils tighter, but with Lance acting this way, Keith elects to ignore it. 

 

“You know what, nevermind,” he spits, pivoting on his heel. He’s about to take a step and carry himself far from Lance’s room when he hears something muttered darkly behind him.

 

“Yeah, leave. It’s what you do best.”

 

Keith tenses, pausing mid spin as his nails clench tightly into his palms. Lance’s words are liquid nitrogen, and the look of utter defeat on his face when Keith turns back is enough to have his heart shattering to dust. 

 

He wants to be angry. He wants to scream at Lance that he’s wrong, and that he doesn’t run away, and that everything he’s done so far has been for the mission, for Voltron... 

 

He wants to yell that leaving was  _ never _ his intention! That he would have  _ loved _ to have stayed with the team, with  _ him _ ! He wants to tell Lance that his time spent away was nearly  _ unbearable!  _ That the pain and emptiness that has built a home in his heart will take millenia to fill, and the only way he survives it is by keeping himself so overwhelmingly preoccupied that his brain has no time to ponder it!

 

He wants to explain how much he missed everyone, and how helpless he felt not knowing if they were okay….if they were even  _ alive _ ! 

 

He wants to admit that he’s grown terrified of the dark, for it brings reminders of his years spent drifting in solitude: that he wakes in cold sweats horrified that he’s back on that whale, lost in space with no way home. 

 

He wants to tell Lance all of this, but for some reason his tongue won’t work. It feels heavy in his mouth, and it’s only until wet trails start pouring down his cheeks that Keith realizes why. 

 

He’s crying, and the only words he can utter are broken and wretched, torn from his throat like the ripping of velcro. 

 

“ _ I’m sorry!” _

 

Lance’s eyes widen, his body tense and unmoving as he watches Keith shudder, likely startled by the sudden outburst. But it's too late to go back now; Keith’s walls are frail, and stopping any rampant emotions would be like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. So he let’s them out. Let’s the tears flow. 

 

Let’s his guilt do the talking.

 

“I’m  _ sorry!”  _ he repeats with a hiccup, forcing his gaze upwards into Lance’s face.

“Lance...I-I know how hard-I feel so-I can’t-” he breaks off, shoving his palms into his eyes to try and collect himself, but it’s no use. He doesn’t know why he even bothered.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs instead, voice defeated and feeble. He’s safe behind his hands, despite the darkness. But he’s scared to take them away, lest he open his eyes and find himself alone with his wolf, watching a distant star fade as he returns from whatever vision he had been in. 

 

“I-I’m sorry-” 

 

And then something attacks him.

 

Or so Keith thinks for a startling second, but his body doesn’t relax much when he understands that it’s just arms swiftly engulfing him. 

 

He wants to say he’s used to hugs. 

 

He’s given them plenty, and recieved them just as often, so he thinks with all that experience he should be able to react accordingly when in a hugging situation. 

 

But Lance’s hug...there’s nothing really Keith can compare it to. With Hunk hugs are fierce and tight: warm and loving and happy. Hugs for friendship and camaraderie. 

 

Shiro, on the other hand, gives hugs that feel safe and protective. Comfortable. Those are brotherly hugs, familiar, and not at all the same as this. 

 

Allura’s hugs are more stiff: though Keith figures that’s entirely on his part. He doesn’t have much experience hugging girls, and he’s not sure how to go about the added chest appendages. With Pidge he doesn’t really have that problem, given that her arms typically only reach his waist to begin with. 

 

But this?

 

This is way beyond Keith’s scope. 

 

For one, Lance’s hug is hesitant: uncertain and wary, as if teetering on a delicate pillar of indecision. His arms are loose and body tense, like he’s holding his breath, too afraid to even exhale. 

 

And that makes it a questioning hug: one that is testing the boundaries, wondering how far it can go before facing rejection. 

 

But Keith can’t convince himself that that’s all there is to it. 

 

Even with his arms smushed into Lance’s chest, eyes still hidden beneath tear stained gloves, Keith can sense something else lingering below the surface.

 

Something in the way Lance’s hands dig into the material of his jacket, grasping for hold but too afraid to take it. Or the unsteady rhythm of his pulse against Keith’s fingers, chest moving outwards and in with a strained pace. 

 

But before Keith can put a name to it Lance pulls away: decision made in response to Keith’s lack of response, and it’s with a flurry of understanding that Keith realizes what sort of hug Lance's had been.

 

A hug of longing. 

 

A hug of want. 

 

A hug drenched in confessions left unspoken. 

 

And Keith doesn’t want it to end.

 

He pulls his hands away from his face, eyes wide and blinking rapidly as he watches Lance step back, but he doesn’t allow much distance to form between them.

 

None at all in fact, as he dives forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Lance’s middle, shoving his face in the gap between shoulder and neck and holding on for dear life.

 

He doesn’t think this is a vision, but it’s a risk he can’t afford to take. He needs this more than air itself: feels the effects of that decision begin to take effect as his lungs burn and his ducts refill. But he can’t let go.

 

Not yet. Not until-

 

And there it is: Lance’s arms returning the embrace, pulling him in closer than Keith thought possible. He feels their weight sway from side to side, the result of Lance rocking them back and forth as a hand goes to smooth down his hair, trickling down his back and then repeating the motion. 

 

Keith sinks into it: feels the tightness in his chest loosen and allow him a proper breath in what feels like months. Maybe even years.

 

He turns his head so it isn’t pressed suffocatingly into Lance’s shoulder and rests his cheek against it instead, closing his eyes as he inhales shakily: knuckles burying white into Lance’s shirt. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, not meaning to but only able to manage that much. It’s all his brain can think to say. “I’m sor-”

 

“Shh, stop,” Lance interrupts gently. “No more apologizing.” Keith wants to say there’s humour in his voice, but it’s hard to tell after the mental collapse he just endured.

 

He ignores the advice regardless.

 

“No! You need to-” his voice hitches, catching on the remnants of tears clogging his throat, but he forges on. “You need to know how much I-”

 

“Keith.” Lance’s voice is stern now, but not unforgiving. It does the trick though, and Keith quiets down as Lance takes over. “It’s my turn, alright?”

 

Keith nods. It’s all he can do. 

 

The hand in his hair slows, but the motion doesn’t stop: fingers toying with the longer strands at the base of Keith’s neck. It makes him want to cry all over again from the sheer tenderness of it. 

 

“I…” Lance’s chest rises, signalling a deep inhale before he goes on: “I’m sorry to.”

 

Awareness jerks back into Keith’s body, and he nearly gives himself whiplash as he leans back to stare up into Lance’s face. 

 

“Wha-you have nothing-”

 

Lance’s laughter chokes him out as he steps back with a smile: hands leaving Keith’s back as more space is given. Keith doesn’t want to let go, but any lingering touch would be considered awkward at this point, so with a resigned sigh he lets his arms fall back to his side. 

 

“I do, so just let me finish, would ya?” Lance’s expression is bashful, his cheeks rosy as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. Keith tries to mimic the pose, only to realize halfway through the motion that his pants don’t have anything similar.

 

He lets his arms fall back down to the side rather awkwardly, hoping Lance didn’t see. 

 

“I want to apologize, Keith,” Lance admits, gaze flickering between the ceiling and the floor, “for ignoring you recently. It wasn’t...well,” he glances up shyly, rubbing the back of his neck in the process. “It wasn’t cool. And...I guess I was just  _ mad _ at you for-gah-” he breaks off, tone changing immediately.

 

Brows lower over blue as Lance straightens, and all at once Keith is staring up at the Red Paladin of Voltron: fierce and intimidating and awe inspiring.

 

He never grew up near the ocean, but he imagines this is how quickly it shifts. One moment calm and carefree and the next stormy and untamed. 

 

It leaves him with an odd craving for the sea.

 

“I was so... _ lonely  _ when you left,” Lance confesses, oblivious to Keith's thoughts. “And-I didn’t think it would hit me so hard, you know? I never expected to..and this sounds awful, but I never thought I would  _ miss _ you.”

 

Keith must flinch at that, as Lance hastily remedies his sentence.

 

“No! Crap, that sounded-listen.” He tries again, shoulders lifting as he takes another breath. “It surprised me is all. One day you were here and the next...you weren’t. And I knew where you had gone, and-and what you were doing, but we went from talking every day to...to  _ nothing _ really. Just like that. But I figured I was just missing you because I had no one to tease anymore, which, wow, that sounds sort of awful as well doesn’t it…”

 

But Keith is chuckling weakly now, shaking his head.

 

“No, I know what you mean.”

 

He means for that to be reassuring, but Lance’s smile still wavers, fading from his face as blue eyes bore into indigo. 

 

“I really  _ did _ miss you, you know,” Lance whispers, and Keith is grateful for the silence in the hallway, otherwise the sentence would have been lost. “I just-I wasn’t sure how to cope with it. I was...sort of lost, as dumb as that sounds-”

 

“It’s not dumb,” Keith quickly interjects, and Lance takes a small step forward. 

 

“And I think, in my head, I sort of had this... _ vision _ of how things would be once you got back. Like, I could show you the video game system Hunk, Pidge and I set up, and we could play and...talk about our own adventures. I think I figured everything would just go back to normal once you were here again. But…” he trails off, letting his hands to fiddle with the end of his shirt. “But this is war, and we’re in space and...things don’t go back to the way they were. It just doesn’t happen that way.”

 

“Lance-”

 

“And then all of a sudden you were  _ here _ and there was that thing with Lotor and Romelle, and we  _ never _ got a break! We were all swept up again, trying to stay afloat in all this chaos, and-and I think I sort of ended up...blaming you for that.” He shuffles closer, head still bowed as Keith watches in disbelief. He half expects Lance to fall forward into him, just judging from his body language, but somehow he stays upright. 

 

“I’m sorry Keith, for putting that on you. It wasn’t fair of me, and...well, yeah. I’m sorr-”

His apology is cut off abruptly as Keith lurches forward, arms flinging around Lance’s neck as he closes the space between them.

 

It’s not like the other hug. It’s not hesitant, or awkward, or stiff, or unsure…

 

It’s familiar, but not so much that Keith can prevent the flutter in his chest. 

 

It’s comfortable, but in a different way than he’s used to, like the smell of hot chocolate compared to coffee. 

 

Hugging Lance has effects on Keith’s mind and body-and he’s been in space long enough to think perhaps maybe his soul is part of that equation as well-that no other embrace ever could. 

 

It’s as he understood it before, back when he was too late to stop Lance from pulling away. But now that he knows, Keith holds firm.

 

There’s longing in this hug, and he’s tired of hiding it. 

 

Lance’s laughter ruffles the top of Keith’s hair, but he squeezes back nonetheless. 

 

“I guess that means apology accepted?” he teases, and Keith feels his own chuckle tickle his throat. 

 

“So unfair,” he mutters, feeling Lance shift to stare down at him.

 

“What is?”

 

Keith inhales once, taking in the scent Lance carries, memorizing it as if he hasn't already, and lets the hug end. He mourns it, but for some reason he’s not worried. 

 

_ There will be more, _ he thinks pleasantly.  _ I’ll make sure there are more.  _

 

Besides, it’s overwhelming hugging Lance, and Keith knows his lingering awkwardness would make it weird if it continued. Best to pace himself.

 

“Ah, it’s just,” he smirks, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I came here all ready to apologize to  _ you _ , freaking out over what to do and say, and then you...you just go and do it  _ so much better than me _ .”

 

Lance guffaws in what sounds to be humour mixed with shock.

 

“What? I didn’t-”

 

“You did,” Keith cuts him off, playful. “And it was rude. Inconsiderate. Now I look like an ass stumbling over my dumb words while you stand there all triumphant and pleased with yourself.”

 

Lance is full on laughing now, grin wide as he rolls his eyes. 

 

“I’m not  _ pleased _ with myself!” 

 

“Are to,” Keith shoots back, trying and failing to hide his own smile. “I can tell.” 

 

Lance snorts, laughter dwindling down to a few scattered giggles as he shrugs.

 

“Maybe a tad. To be honest though,” he sobers, though the twinkle in his eyes is more prominent than before. “I’ve been wanting to say something sooner. I just...didn’t know when or how. I’m really glad you came to talk to me.”

 

“And by talk you mean make a fool of myself and start crying?” Keith jokes, but Lance only shrugs again, tone more level as he continues. 

 

“I don’t like seeing you cry Keith. But…” he leans in closer, brows rising suspiciously on his forehead. “I  _ don’t _ mind doing this-” 

 

And just like that Keith is engulfed in another hug, though he struggles to call it even that. This embrace is more similar to Hunk’s, meaning bone crushing and unexpected. But it transitions from a hug to a sort of tackle with commendable fluidity: Lance getting the upper hand and pulling Keith into a headlock as quickly as he can.

 

“Hey-” Keith yelps in surprise, and then his instincts take over. He twists, poking Lance in the side as he slips away from the grabby hands that attempt to hold him close. Lance yields soon enough, likely realizing he’d easily be beat in a wrestle match should it come to that. Still, both boys are biting back grins as they break apart. 

 

They stare at each other for a moment too long in the aftermath, faces flushing red as they blame the lack of air conditioning in the hall for the sudden heat in their cheeks. But it’s comfortable, and Keith doesn’t feel as embarrassed as he would typically. 

 

“Aaanywaaay,” he drawls as the silence stretches on, “I should let you get back to what you were doing.”

 

“Actually,” Lance huffs out a quick laugh, suddenly sheepish. “I may have lied about that.”

 

“Meaning…?”

 

“I uh...I didn’t really have anything important. I was just gonna go talk to the mice or something. Maybe chill with Kaltenecker for a bit.” 

 

“Oh-” Keith catches himself before his surprise becomes too evident, but Lance still notices.

 

“Lame, I know. But there hasn't been much else to do with my free time lately.”

 

“What about Hunk and Pidge?” Keith asks, and the response he’s given is crestfallen and curt. 

 

“Busy.”

 

Keith thinks there’s more to  _ that _ story as well, but it’s a conversation for another time. Besides, if he’s being honest, spending time alone with Lance sounds like a dream come true-a vision made real-and maybe it’s selfish of him to think, but he’d rather not have the others involved. He blames the excess endorphins running rampant in his brain for that one. 

 

“Well…” he rolls his shoulders, gesturing down the hall with his head in a moment of pure confidence. “I’m not doing anything right now...if you wanna hang out.”

 

Lance blinks, clearly taken aback by the offer. The responding grin is answer enough though.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith ignores the flip his organs perform at the expression of unbridled glee on Lance’s face, turning away down the hall before he does something drastic. 

 

“And, not to brag or anything,” he calls over his shoulder with a wink, feeling brave enough to handle the repercussions, “but I’ve always had a knack for video games.”

 

He hears Lance huff behind him, smirking to himself in victory as footsteps run to catch up.

 

“Oh you’re  _ so _ on!” 

 

They walk down the hall together, side by side, chatting amiably about everything and anything. And as they go Keith feels the tension in his muscles release: shoulders sinking as a massive weight is lifted from them. 

 

He never realized before how much easier breathing is around Lance...how relaxed he could truly be. 

 

And as they go, the tight coil of guilt slowly unravels in Keith’s gut, loosening to the point of comfort, until eventually he exhales and the final knot unwinds. 

 

He feels better, at least for the moment, and he knows it has everything to do with the paladin by his side. 

 

He makes a promise to himself never to stray too far from that side again. 

 

He’d miss the hugs too much. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://www.vulpes--vulpes@tumblr.com)


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